


Small Town Supernatural Problem

by goldenkc



Category: Supernatural, The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Gen, Not Canon Compliant, enjoy :), like at all, like seven people, lol this is shit, lots of people die, mention of bonenzo, mention of delena, oh well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-15 20:05:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10556926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenkc/pseuds/goldenkc
Summary: Hunters Sam and Dean Winchester find archives of suspicious animal attacks in a small town in Virginia. What is there to do but go investigate?





	

**Author's Note:**

> based on that con when jensen was asked what universe he'd like supernatural to crossover into and he said "maybe we’d go pay a visit to the vampire diaries and just wipe them out"
> 
> this does not comply with canon tvd!verse whatsoever. just go with it.
> 
> warning: this is utter shit and just a joke so don't y'all tvd fans get offended cause i love (/hate) the show too and let's be real here ‘cause if the winchesters ever went to mystic falls, everyone would be dead by the end of the day

_Ring! Ring!_

“Hey, how’s recon?”

“ _Just peachy_.”

“So, how many are there?”

“ _I count six targets--five vamps and a wolf. They seem to frequent the local bar and the old boarding house on the outskirts_.”

“How many have they killed?”

“ _Around three hundred, maybe. One, alone, has killed over a hundred in his lifetime as far as I can tell. And I’m guessing the PD is in their pocket because it’s always chalked up to animal attacks_.”

 “But it isn’t animal attacks?”

“ _When is it ever, Sammy?_ ”

* * *

_First target: Caroline Forbes. Vampire. Age 17 since 2010. Blonde hair, blue eyes. 5’8. 22 confirmed kills._

The younger hunter sat at a table in the Mystic Grill, glancing periodically over at the woman at the bar. He finally decided to walk over to her, knowing a job had to be done.

He stood by her and greeted, “Hey, what's your name?”

She looked up, giving a small smile. “Caroline.”

He nodded, holding out a hand. “I'm Sam.”

“Hi,” she shook his hand, then rested her elbows on the bar, twirling her glass in her hands.

The man chuckled, shifting his weight from leg to leg. “I'm sorry, I don't want you to think I’m hitting on you. I just hate to see a girl drinking alone, and well, _I_ hate drinking alone, so would you mind?” he asked, pointing at the stool to her left with that famous Sam Winchester smile.

“No, please,” she said warmly, offering him the spot. “Shots?”

He sighed with a grin, nodding, “God, yes.”

Nearly an hour later, Sam had to admit--Caroline had a very high tolerance. She was laughing more and seemed giddy, but definitely not drunk. Sam made a show, acting as though those many shots affected him more than they really did.

Eventually, Caroline offered to walk him out and call him a cab. When they reached outside, he asked if they could sit in the alley for a minute. Caroline stood with her back to the alley, and Sam looked at her sadly.

“I'm really sorry about this,” he muttered with closed eyes.

“Sorry?” she asked with furrowed brows. Then she gasped as her skin turned grey before she fell face-first to the ground with a wooden stake in her back.

Dean stood by the corpse, a confused look on his face. “You're _sorry_?”

Sam sighed, gesturing to the woman. “She was nice, Dean.”

“Nice?” he repeated with a disbelieving expression.

“She's not like any vamp I've ever seen,” he justified.

Dean shook his head, pulling the stake out of the deceased’s body. “It doesn't matter, Sammy. Still a vamp. This place is crawling with supernaturals, so you're gonna have to shut the sympathy off for a bit.”

Sam nodded, “I know. Who's next?”

Dean led them back to his Impala, taking the list out of his pocket. “Lockwood. A werewolf who doesn't eat hearts.”

Sam scoffed, “That's bullshit.”

Dean hopped into the driver’s seat with a grunt. “Yeah, he must be getting them somehow, but all dead bodies that have shown up have hearts.”

“You think he has a funeral home or morgue connection?”

“Maybe. Doesn't matter. We've got a job to do,” Dean said, putting the car in drive and peeling out of the parking lot to their next target.

* * *

_Second target: Tyler Lockwood. Werewolf. Age 24. Black hair, brown eyes. 5’9. 5 confirmed kills._

Dean sat in his car out front of the Lockwood Mansion, waiting for his brother’s return. He was typing things on his phone, getting frustrated when his large thumbs hit the wrong keys, and finding out more about this little town.

When Sam jumped back into the car, Dean asked, “You do okay?”

“Yep, he barely put up a fight,” he informed, putting his silver-bullet-carrying gun. “Silver did nothing to him though, which was weird. Neck snapping--that one worked.”

Dean nodded, curious about why the silver didn’t work, but decided to move on. “I found the Gilbert house, but it’s been burned down and deemed unsafe for civilians.”

“Convenient,” Sam said sarcastically,

“She’s a doctor. She might be at the hospital,” he suggested, already on his way.

“Worth a shot,” the youngest agreed.

* * *

_Third target: Elena Gilbert. Vampire. Age 18 since 2010. Brown hair, brown eyes. 5’6. 6 confirmed kills._

They arrived at the hospital and before Sam could exit the vehicle, Dean grabbed his brother’s arm. “I got this,” he declared.

“You sure?”

He nodded, putting a couple stakes in his inner jacket pocket. “Yeah, these guys don't seem too defense-oriented, so taking a vamp down by myself shouldn't be much of a challenge,” he said, diminishing the work.

Sam chuckled, nodding ahead, “Alright, hot shot.”

Dean smirked, saluting.

Half an hour later, Dean came back with a sour look. He threw his FBI badge in the glove box, tossing his stakes in the back seat again.

“Well?” Sam asked.

“Not there. We’ll check the boarding house next,” he said, driving off to the outskirts.

* * *

_Fourth target: Stefan Salvatore. Vampire. Age 17 since 1864. Brown hair, green eyes. 5’11. 89+ confirmed kills._

The house was massive, and took a while to sweep over. Dean found his way into the kitchen, digging into one of the muffins left on the counter, thinking no one would eat them after all residents were dead.

“Um, hello?”

Dean swung around with his gun in the air, and muffin crumbs on his lips. He swallowed, narrowing his eyes at the dark skinned girl before him. He recognized her from his files, but didn’t mark her as a vampire.

“What are you?” was his first question, to which her eyebrows furrowed.

She considered demanding why this man was even in her best friend’s kitchen, but thought it better to correctly answer the questioning gun wielder. “Witch,” she stated with a confident aura.

Dean scoffed, shaking his head. “No thanks,” he said, firing his gun at the woman’s head. She fell to the ground with a thud, and Sam ran into the room.

“What was that?”

Dean shrugged, pointing his gun at the body. “Found a witch.”

“Who was it?” Sam asked, inspecting the woman on the floor.

“The Bennett girl.”

“Makes sense,” Sam nodded. “Bennetts have been witches here for centuries.”

Dean sighed, walking out of the kitchen, “Freakin’ hate witches, man.”

They cleared all floors, disappointed they hadn’t found any Salvatores. Their wishes were granted when the front door swung open, and in came a Salvatore, himself. He entered the living room, dropping his keys on the table with a huff.

Dean snuck up behind the vamp with a raised gun, and whistled. The one Dean knew as Stefan turned around with an alarmed expression.

“Hi there,” Dean smirked, before firing the gun containing wooden bullets into the heart of the monster. His body fell to the ground and Dean pursed his lips, speaking to his brother. “Is it just me, or are these things dyin’ weird?” Dean asked, referring to the greyed skin.

They heard a car door close, and hid behind a wall, waiting for the person to come inside. “Stefan?!” screeched a feminine voice.

“Who’s that?” Sam whispered.

Dean shook his head. “No clue. Let's find out.” They rounded the corner with guns pointed at the back of a brunette’s head. “Freeze! Hands up!”

The woman turned around slowly with her hands in the air. She had tears running down her cheeks as she narrowed her eyes at the intruders. “You're the hunters, aren't you? The ones that have been going around and killing my friends?”

“Elena Gilbert, hi. Sorry about that, just doing our job,” Dean said condescendingly.

“We're good people. We don't hurt anyone!” she pleaded.

“You have before. And you will again. You're all vampires, wolves, witches--it's in your nature.”

“How did you even find us? We've been quiet.”

“Katherine Pierce.”

Elena’s face twitched slightly, as though she was about to let her anger out, but decided against it. “You know her?” Sam asked.

“Never heard of her,” Elena said, her expression giving away all sorts of tells of lying.

Dean scoffed. “Really? With a face like yours? I'd think all you doppelgangers would be tight,” he mocked.

“I'm not a doppelganger anymore,” she snapped, resting her hands on the table behind her.

“‘Cause you're a vamp now?” asked Sam. “Yeah, we know.”

Dean whistled, pointing his gun at the woman’s travelling hand toward the knife on the table. “Quit moving that hand or it’s coming off, sweetheart.”

Elena gave out what could have been confused for a growl, crossing her arms. “What did she tell you?”

“About all of you,” Dean shrugged.

Sam had had enough of messing around, and he wanted to find the last of the vamps. “Where's Damon Salvatore?”

“I don't know,” she said, awfully lying again.

“If you don't tell us where your boyfriend is, we'll find him ourselves,” Dean warned.

She groaned, rolling her eyes. “He's smart. He probably ran when he caught wind of you two.” She sighed, then muttered, “I should've listened to him.”

“About what?”

“You're the Winchesters, right? He'd heard of you all over the States, taking down anything with claws, powers or a blood thirst. When he found out you were in town, he told me to run.”

Sam took a step forward. “How long ago was this?”

“Not saying,” she said defiantly. “Go ahead and shoot me. I'm _not_ giving him up.”

“Okay,” Dean said, pulling the trigger, landing a wooden bullet in the heart of the vampire. Elena gasped as she clutched her chest, turning grey as she fell.

Sam sighed, putting his gun in the back of his jeans. “How many more are there?”

“Just a couple more. Salvatore and St. John.”

“That's Salvatore's old buddy, right?” Sam asked. Dean nodded, and Sam continued with, “Think they're together?”

“There's a good chance.”

Sam followed his brother out of the house and to their car. “How do we find ‘em?”

“We’ll put out an APB out on the Camaro; see what turns up.”

* * *

_Fifth target: Lorenzo St. John. Vampire. Age 27 since 1903. Brown hair, brown eyes. 5’10. 26+ confirmed kills._

They’d gotten a hit on their APB in a matter of a couple hours. The blue ’69 Chevy was seen less than 50 miles from Mystic Falls. On the drive out, Sam seemed unsettled. Dean finally asked him what was wrong, stating he couldn’t take anymore of Sam’s sad puppy dog look.

“That girl--Elena--she said they were good people,” Sam said.

Dean sighed, softening his voice. “They all say that.”

“I know,” Sam acknowledged, sifting through their files on the town’s supernatural problem. “It's just odd that after all the fake animal attacks and all the bodies they've piled up and people getting hurt… you'd think they'd know they were bad people.”

“I guess they've blocked it out, convinced themselves they're doing good,” he offered, looking over at his brother. When he turned back to the road, he slammed on the brakes. Tires screeched across the pavement before the car stopped in front of a vengeful figure.

“Winchesters!” the man called angrily, slamming his fists on the hood of the Impala.

“St. John?” Sam asked.

“St. John,” Dean confirmed. They boys exited the car at the same time, pointing their guns at the man in front of them while they stood behind their doors. “How's it going, man?”

Enzo looked as though he was about to rip their heads off right there. He growled at them, “Put down the bloody guns. Your bullets won’t kill me.”

“Wooden bullets will,” Dean said.

“You won't get the chance,” the British man scoffed.

Sam asked, “You wanna tell us where your friend is?”

“Not particularly. We have other business,” he said with a scowl on his face. “You lot killed the woman I love. Now, I am going to tear you limb from limb until you're--”

Enzo was cut off with a bullet to the heart. Dean sighed, shaking his head incredulously. “Why does everyone want to talk? We're the ones with the guns! I told him we have wooden bullets.”

Sam chuckled, “I don’t know. These guys think they’re invincible.”

“Idiots,” Dean murmured, going to take care of the body in the middle of the road.

* * *

_Sixth target: Damon Salvatore. Vampire. Age 23 since 1864. Black hair, blue eyes. 5’10. 106+ confirmed kills._

They pulled up to a bar outside Mystic Falls, parking beside the blue Camaro. Dean noted what a nice ride it was, stating the vampire had good taste in cars.

“Hiya, Damon,” Dean greeted, leaning against the bar beside said vampire.

“Dammit,” the blue eyed man muttered, resting his half-empty whiskey glass on the bar top.

Dean nodded, “Yeah, we found you. A bar, no less. You stopped for a drink?”

Sam winced, “Running away 101--no pit stops”

“What do you want?” Damon groaned, staring down the eldest Winchester.

He chuckled, shrugging his shoulders. “You know, to kill you. Just typical hunter vs vampire business.”

Damon raised his eyebrows, almost challenging the hunter. “Yeah? In front of all these people?”

“Well, I think you'll wanna step outside. What do you think, Sam?”

“Oh yeah, especially after you find out what we've done to your friends.”

“Every one of them. You're the last, buddy. So let's just get this over with.”

“The only way I walk out of here, is if I've finished my drink, or killed you both. Whichever comes last,” Damon smirked confidently.

“Cocky son of a bitch, ain’t ya?” Dean chuckled, pulling out the stool beside Damon.

Sam spoke up, “Well then, in the meantime, how about we tell you about our little visit to your hometown?”

“Yeah, we met a few of your friends, your brother. Nice people. What were all their names, Sammy?” Dean nudged Damon’s arm, saying, “He's so much better at remembering things as trivial as names.”

“Caroline Forbes, Tyler Lockwood, Bonnie Bennett, Stefan Salvatore, Enzo St. John,” Sam listed. “And... wait, I'm forgetting one,” he said dramatically.

“Elena Gilbert,” Dean added.

“That's it,” Sam clicked his tongue with a nod.

Damon turned murderous at the mention of his girlfriend’s name. “If you touched her--”

“Oh, we didn't,” Dean smirked. “We've got wooden bullets.”

Sam patted the vampire’s shoulder. “Getting a little tense there, Damon? Need some air?”

“I'm gonna kick your asses,” he declared with a puffed up chest.

“Okay, tough guy,” Dean chuckled, which only egged him on more.

Damon got all of three steps outside into the empty parking lot before Dean tapped his shoulder. “Hey,” the hunter said, catching the vamp’s attention.

As soon as he turned, Dean’s arm swung out, machete in hand, slicing the monster’s head off. It rolled a few feet from the rest of his body. Sam made a quick look around, noting that no one saw.

“Well, that was fun. We've had a long day, Sammy,” Dean sighed, tossing his machete in the back seat of their car, clapping a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Let's head home.”


End file.
